


Something Better

by jensens



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Boyfriends, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10566396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensens/pseuds/jensens
Summary: Clay has a nightmare and Tony comes over to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for this. Wrote it at one in the morning without even finishing the show first. I'm a mess. I'm not sure I like how this went but there are so few fics for this ship! Unedited, so sorry for the mistakes!

He stands above the makeshift grave, looking down at the folded paper with her name on it. How long has it been now? Weeks, months, years. The ebbing and flowing of time doesn’t care that she’s gone; it trudges on with a weary pace, each day another trial. He brought her flowers: white roses, the petals clean and unsullied. Just as he moves to place them down, the wind picks up and carries the paper away. No, no, no! “Come back,” he screams, taking off after them. The paper leads him to the forest, twisting and dancing in the breeze, an all too familiar voice laughing “catch me if you can!” He knows that he can’t catch her, knows that she’s just too fast, but he tries anyway and sprints with the tree branches grabbing onto him, driven by the fact that he can’t lose her again. He bursts out of the forest, panting, into a familiar clearing. He spots the rocks that he and Tony sat on, realizing this is the “hill” Tony made him climb. Glancing up, he is met by an unmistakable green denim jacket. It’s her, looking the same as the day he met her: long wavy hair parted to the side, blood rushing through her cheeks, and an untamable light in her eyes. “Whatcha got there Clay,” she asks, gesturing towards his hands. He shrugs. “Oh, these, uh, I picked them up for you.” She pries the flowers from his bloody hands, covered in scratches from clenching the thorny stems. “I never liked roses,” she sighs, examining them distastefully before letting them fall to the ground. Clay winces, running a hand along the back of his neck. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll bring you something else next time.” Hannah laughs bitterly. “There won’t be a next time. You’ve already killed me.” He wants to stop it, but his feet are rooted in place. All he can do is stand there and watch her walk off the cliff and fall off the cliff, down, down, dow-

“Shit!” Clay gasps awake, letting out short hard breaths. His heart pounds through his sweat-soaked shirt, loud enough that he’s glad his parents are heavy sleepers. Automatically, he reaches for his phone to call Tony. This has become somewhat of a habit a while ago, though Clay hasn’t had one this bad in at least a month. The phone rings once, twice, five times before Tony picks up, yawning into the receiver. 

“Another nightmare?”

“Uh huh. I know it’s late, sorry, I thought they were getting better. But this one was so real, and I figure since you like stalking me anyways, maybe you coul-”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Before Clay can stutter out a thanks, Tony hangs up. Clay nods to himself sheepishly, and lies down to wait.

Exactly nineteen minutes later, Clay hears a soft knocking at his window. He jumps out of bed to open it, letting Tony tumble in. Tony’s still in his pj’s, boxers and a soft grey t-shirt, but he took the time to throw on his signature leather jacket. 

“Careful! How did you get up here,” Clay demands. 

“Seriously? I can climb a cliff, your two story house is no match for me.” 

“Touché,” Clay chuckles, until he remembers the cliff from the dream. He sits back down onto his bed, slouching over slightly. 

“Wanna talk about it,” Tony asks softly, sitting down next to him. 

Clay hesitates, leaning his shoulders slightly against Tony’s, desperately searching for an anchor. 

“She was there, I, I saw her. But I got her the wrong flowers. And, and I had to lose her again, I had to watch her fall, and oh God Tony it was such a long fall, and I didn’t stop it.”  
Tears are rolling down his cheeks, big, fat, cliche tears that Hannah would have hated. Clay lets himself melt into Tony’s side, and lets Tony whisper quiet reassurances into his ears. Tony’s hand gently cards through his hair, while the other rubs circles around his back.

“Sh, sh, sh, don’t think about that now. Think about something better.”

Clay leans out of Tony’s arms again to face him. In the dim glow from his lamp, Clay can see how Tony’s features seem to soften even more at night. Especially his hair which, when untamed by product, sticks up in tufts. Clay meets Tony’s eyes, and blushes when he realizes he was staring. 

“Like what?”

“Well, riding around in a cool mustang with a cool guy is one.” This makes Clay crack a smile. 

“Or singing along to your favorite song. Or having school cancelled for a snow day. Or caring about someone.” Tony meets Clay’s eyes for this one. 

“Or,” he says while poking Clay in the chest, “changing out of this shirt into a nicer smelling one." 

Tony smiles at Clay, who feigns hurt by hanging his head and clutching his chest. But one shirt change and leather jacket discard later, Clay finds himself lying in the safety of Tony’s arms, and can’t help but think this is the something that's so much better.


End file.
